Dreams Alive
by The newbie phan
Summary: "I'm done living by what society demands or what is expected of me. I'm thinking for mself now..." After Christine leaves her angel in shambles, she gets to thinking. Might she have regrets? Sometimes dreams DO come true, no matter how crazy they are. Some light humor, though macabre in some spots. ALW/Leroux. Read/Review! :D! One-shot!


A/N: Well, my other story did not quite fulfill my goal, therefore leaving me with many one-shots in the nearing future! Isn't it great? Lolz. Okay, this one is kind of macabre for some people, but I HAD to put an E/C pairing in this, so it may be something for me to fall back on if I get bored and of course that will only happen according to 'Popular Demand', per se. So here is my first one-shot, PLEASE REVIEW! I LOVE TO HEAR WHAT PEOPLE SAY ABOUT MY WRITING! I'm gonna try to get as many opinions on my writing as possible, but that goal can only be fulfilled by you guys! Enjoy!

(Up-to-date: Okay, so apparently I had many grammatical errors and improper translations in here, so I found it only right to replace them with the proper versions. Thanks for bearing with my, you guys! :))

_** 3 :Dreams Alive: 3 **_

_**Erik's POV:**_

Yes, I am the Devil's Child. My face is always deep red and seething angry. Absolutely _mad._

"Yes, gather 'round children, look if you can! Come and see the Devil's Child! A face so hideous, you'll have nightmares!"

That old pompous, gypsy bastard, Javert would coo the same words every day, five to seven times a day. So yes, come and gawk and screech at the Devil's Child. Yes, look if you can. Come look at this face which poisons everything. Everything. Even love… My love. My fallen angel. MY CHRISTINE! Why must I ruin everything?! This face which earned my own mother's fear and loathing. Her disgust. Her fury. This face… This face which denies me EVERYTHING! Yet, a twisted murderer such as I deserves such a fate, does he not? BUT IT WAS THIS MONSTEROUS FACE OF MINE WHICH CONDEMNS ME TO THIS DESTINY! Not the other way around…

It's so unfair! No. I shouldn't have let her leave. I fought. I fought so HARD! So hard, to mend her marred wings and teach her to fly! Only to have her fly away… WHY?! WHY MUST IT ALWAYS END THIS WAY?! The love of my life, in the arms of that… that scum! That FOP! I should just end it now… I WILL end it now. I can't take it. But what strong beast of a man would be so weak as to take his own life? Pining away after an ethereal angel he knew he could never have? Exactly. I'm NOT strong. "Le Puissant et Méchant Fantôme" is actually not so mighty after all. It was all a façade to save my sorry hide from the light of day and the darkness of society.

What is that throbbing noise in my ears? Oh no. The mob! I have to run. Run out of the dungeon of my black despair! Out of the darkness of my mind! Out of this godforsaken prison I built for myself!

I hear my heart thud in my ears. My feat slamming on the stone to a frantic, uneven beat. Right. Left. Right. Left. My large bounds get even wider spread as my legs carry me even faster towards the deepest part of my dark lake. I take one final leap and for some reason decide to hold my breath.

_*SPLASH*_

I close my eyes… Crying. What's this? The "Il Fantasma Pieno D'odio" has feelings now? Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything. ALMOST everything. Permanent happiness being the only exception. Or, at least in MY miserable being…

A tug.

What was that? Again, only this time with more force. The mob probably found me. I imagine myself thinking about my impending doom.

"_Madame Guillotine, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."_

For once I am actually afraid to go forth for the only thing I wished for… Besides love… Death…

Running out of air… Need…To…Go up…! I feel yet a third tug on my arm. What? Can't they tell I'm busy dying?! Whatever it was spun me around.

I am met wish the beautiful visage of… MY ANGEL! My mind is calling out, "_Christine! Christine!" _but I'm so low on air that I didn't think I could muster even a blink without completely drowning myself in my own black lake. Ahh… Christine… How did you, in your shaken right mind, come to the late conclusion to have me in your life after I almost slaughtered your petty _boy_, threw all of the opera into a ball of fire, and put every other living thing in Paris into a state of extreme chaos?

_The mob…_

I start to panic, losing air with every fleeting second. I feel a harsh searing sensation upon my mouth… HUH?! Air… more and more air… Oh my god… Did she just…? Again, I get an emotion way out of left field… Warm… I'm warm… Warm? I _was_ still the cold-hearted, beastly, cutthroat monster everyone said I was, right? THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING… Then all went black. My emotions putting my brain on hold and shutting me down.

_**Christine's POV:**_

Well, there he is… My poor angel… Attempting to drown himself to get away from the cruel life that he knows. How foolish. Foolish, because he knows, deep down, that I'll always be there to fish him out. To save him. I slink further into the deeper water. I find him levitating under the dark, glassy lake in one of his hidden mini-caves. I keep pulling on his sleeve, but he doesn't show any intentions on turning around. Why should he? After what I did to my angel, my maestro, I wouldn't be surprised if I died and was looking _up_ at my grave catching the sight of Erik dancing over my dead corpse. But I knew he's not like that. I tug on his arm again. His life is on the line. I finally lose all control and patience and I force my lips upon his bloated ones to give him some air. Though it still felt like something else… *sigh*

After, rather reluctantly, pulling away, I swear his eyes fluttered shut and he fainted. I swing my arm around his limp torso and try to kick for the both of us. To my complete surprise, I succeed, considering that I'm exceptionally weak.

"_That's because he feeds like an anorexic in that ludicrous cellar of his…"_

Although it's strange, dark, beautiful and romantic, it's hardly an appropriate place to survive.

I finally get us to the sand mound under the bridge on the Seine (after drifting through the disgusting, rat infested sewage to get us out of the path of the mob and away from the flame-engulfed opera house) and I see the most blood churning thing my eyes have ever bestowed upon me…

:":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":" :":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":":" :":":":":":":":":":":":"

There he was. My love of my life. The one that, I've come to discover, would easily be worth 100 of that despicable De Chaney fop… "Why the change of heart?" you say? Well,…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_30 minutes earlier_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"_Pitiful creature of darkness,_

_What kind of life have you known? _

_God give me courage to show you, _

_You are not aloooone!"_

Then, that kiss. The most dazzling, heart-felt, and paralyzing kiss I'd ever shared. Right then I knew that I really DID belong there. In my poor, unhappy Erik's arms. It just felt so right. After reluctantly pulling away a little bit to see my ill-fated angel, I found the most adorable, yet heart smashing sight. The man before me, the so-called "Phantom", was bearing his soul right in front of my eyes. And it was the first time that his music was not there to veil the TRUE meaning of his heart's intentions. My Erik… In spite of his monstrous deformity he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever have the pleasure of seeing. But what really killed me was his eyes. Once my eyes met his, I was a goner. He was CRYING! So many inexplicable emotions swam in a merging flame within those glittering, golden orbs. Sorrow, pain, despair, sadness, confusion, remorse, and love. Above all, there was love. And I _felt_ for him. I loved him and had compassion for him. I got so lost that my heart took over. But my mouth was _really _mastering my actions. So I got out of my reverie in his eyes and got lost in his lips instead. This time deeper, and more passionate. If that's even possible. It was so deep that I couldn't climb out of it. For when Erik pulled away, I was still trapped in the endless well of love and silent music.

"Go. Leave me. Take the boat. Don't let them find you! Forget me, forget all of this! But promise me never tell, the secret you know of the angel in Hell!"

And so he kept rambling on about leaving him for the rest of eternity and whatever else his unfortunately dwindling self-esteem told him to blurt out at us. I felt instant regret the second I stepped foot on that blasted gondola. Regret that I left my angel broken-winged and love-less.

Roaul started singing to me like some lovesick puppy that I knew he wasn't. I followed the verses, and sang the parts, but kept my back turned on the blonde mess stealing me away from my true lover. No, I sang for my fallen angel. Though I didn't even give him a glance throughout the entire song, I supposed Roaul was still convinced that my voice was made out for him. Just like a check, which he has WAY to many of.

"Finally you're out of this madness and out of the evil clutches of that god-awful looking psychopath."

Then a strangled and throaty, desperately sorrowful and broken voice rang out through the entire fifth basement level:

"IT'S OVER NOW, THE MUSIIIIC OOOOF THE NIIIGHT!"

Evidently, fopzilla heard his cry as well.

"SURE IS, YOU DEMENTED BEAST! Yet, how can something end when it never started?! Isn't that right, Lotte?"

I paused. I knew I could've done something to stop this mess, but I was on overload until now. I knew what I wanted and what I didn't. So I let him have it.

"Yes, it is Roaul. But not in the way that you think. You're a prejudice, spoiled, foppish, judgmental, messy, smelly, drunken, sorry excuse for a man OR boy, and you and I, never started. I'm sorry, Monsieur, Goodbye."

And with that, I dove off the edge of the vessel, with Roaul's angry, probably alcohol-stained cries, following in my wake. I didn't care. If he's stupid enough to think I'd be dragged into his disgusting, judgmental heap-of-hair-gel family, I almost felt sorry for him. Because I don't think I'd ever known someone as brain-dead as that. I pulled myself through the black water as fast as I could to get to Erik before something happened, namely including the mob. My dress started to weigh me down, therefore leaving me with no choice but to tear off the huge mass of fabric around my waist, which was what connected the bell of the gown to the upper layers. I left it hanging on the spike that was never fixed when the wall had slightly given way to age. Either that or it was some extra piece of one of Erik's insane traps. The latter seemed more likely, but I felt better when I believed the former.

I eventually found my angel half dead in his own lake some-minutes later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PRESENT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that is how I got here. Now, we were out of the way of Roaul, and the mob. It felt safe, therefore, I decided to get to work. Erik had almost killed himself on his own dark waters. Leaving me to his delectable lips. I did, however have an excuse for devouring his bloated mouth, as CPR was indeed needed in this particular situation. Time was running low for his opportunity to survive. But it seemed the last second, when he randomly jolted his neck up and wretched and wheezed and coughed, noting me of his very close survival. He seemed frightened I was still there.

I haven't a clue why. But I didn't care. I practically leapt on top of him and peppered his marred face with loving kisses and claimed how much I loved him and how I'd never leave him again. And it felt good, because it was the first time in months that I could tell the truth. With Madame Giry pulling words right out of my mouth every-which-way, my career on the line, battling Carlotta, Roaul always snooping around in my personal business, and Erik claiming that he wanted to remain anonymous as my teacher to others, it was quite hard to just be normal and truthful. And when he woke up enough, he was about to start weeping incessant pleads for forgiveness and sorrow, confusion and fear, I placed my finger upon his lips, and lightly giggled. The action soon brought my kneeling self to the ground next to him. He just gave me this weird look of confusion with a touch of outrage in his fearful eyes. I leaned my forehead towards his so our noses touched, and stole a kiss from his lips. And boy did it feel good. I guess he got the idea, and started giving back. He then gave me that same look of fear and shock.

"What are you doing here, angel? You just left with your boy, and I heard you two singing of your love. What would possibly possess you to run back to this beast?"

He was dead serious. I told him the whole story of how I cut our 'engagement' to pieces, and he laughed. For the first time in the many years I have known Erik, this is the first time he's laughed! Well, the exception being his tricks of entertainment at Carlotta's or the managers' expense. I admit, it was hysterical when Carlotta was screaming and sprinting throughout the whole building because it was overflowing with rats in her huge suitcase. Once she had been out of earshot, I was laughing so hard I was crying. I then heard this maddeningly maniac laugh that seemed to ring out through the whole complex. Erik. I should've known.

So once I ended my story, I looked over to my angel's form next to me. He was crying _yet again_.

"What is wrong, mon ange?"

I took his balled hands away from his face and stroked his disfigurement. He was sobbing even worse than before.

"Y-you… c-c-came b-back to me-e-e… Chirstine, y-you must understand th-that Erik's n-never been l-loved or acc-accepted b-before. Y-you're the first to show c-care or ac-ception to Erik in h-his wh-wh-whole l-life…"

"Oooh, Erik.."

I cooed words of comfort and love into his ear and stroked his blond-ish-brown/black hair. His head was now tucked into my neck. As a wounded child would sit on his mother's lap. I finally got him to calm down, and I just kissed him. And after that, we just kissed and kissed and kissed and sang. Then we fell asleep in each other's arms. Sleeping under the stars, on the river Seine.

"Dreams_ DO_ come true."

This is what my father told me since I could remember until the day he passed. And this moment, proved him right.

A/N: And that's all, folks! I hope you all enjoyed it and found some small parts of it humorous in the parts intended for lolling. I tried to keep it dark and sad and dramatic while working in a few snickers here and there. Oh, and I forgot the disclaimer! Nothing goes to me except the story… kind of…

So now I'm curious: How did I do? Should I write some more stories? Or improve upon this one? Or what? I am not a mind reader especially since some of you may not even be in the country, so I beg of you to drop a review! You know you want tooooo….

And the translations in the story were: (if you were wondering:)

```````Le Puissant et Méchant Fantôme: The mighty, evil Phantom`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

```````Il Fantasma pieno D'odio: Hateful Phantom.````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

*Reviewers get a hypothetical pie! presented by Erik himself lolz

-Your obedient servant,

TNP;)


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